


Not All Loss is Equal

by mizdiz



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dramedy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Prison, Season/Series 04, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizdiz/pseuds/mizdiz
Summary: a prison era sick!fic full of dramedy and fluff to soothe your quarantine depression
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	Not All Loss is Equal

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for psionicjane on tumblr. thanks for the prompt, my dude!

This was out of the norm. She was the one who usually fed him; who sought him out whenever she got even an inkling of suspicion that he hadn’t eaten, as if no matter where in the prison she was she could always hear his stomach growl.

Even though there were a lot of new faces within the prison fences ever since the fall of Woodbury, the core group of them still made it a habit to have meals together. It wasn’t anything anyone suggested aloud; they flocked together unconsciously. Like a house cat that meows at you to stand guard as they crunch down on their kibble, that same protective impulse fell over the lot of them, as though, even with walls now, they couldn’t shake the instincts of survival the road forced them to adopt.

But she wasn’t at supper that night, and it wasn’t her watch shift—Daryl had the watch schedule committed to memory, silently keeping all of his people accounted for, just in case he couldn’t trust the others to do it. People could be so unobservant, so he made it a personal mission to be hyper-vigilant to a fault. He gave it another ten minutes, and when she still didn’t show, he decided it was time for him to return the favor she’d done for him a million times before. Spooning a few ladles full of venison stew into a bowl, Daryl excused himself from the group the way he usually did—silently slipping away without saying anything.

He ducked his head into her cell, but she wasn’t there. It wasn’t surprising. She’d never said as much, but Daryl knew she found the tiny quarters almost as suffocating as he did. It took months and an influx of new people taking up space to convince Daryl to stop sleeping on his perch and to move into a cell, and he still spent as little time in it as possible. After years of being controlled under someone’s hateful hand, the idea of more confinement wasn’t exactly pleasant, and it didn’t take a huge leap in logic to assume Carol felt the same.

The prison was big, but he knew how Carol thought, and he used process of elimination to figure out where she’d gotten off to, and managed to get it in one when he decided to try the library first.

From the doorway, he saw her curled up on the ratty, lumpy couch along the far wall, her left leg stretched out in front of her, and her right bent at the knee. She was leafing through a book, an expression of disinterest on her face. He cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up in surprise.

“You weren’t at supper,” Daryl said by way of explanation. “You alright?” 

Carol laid the open book word-side down on her lower belly and folded her hands above it, resting her head back against the arm of the couch. 

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just feeling kinda shitty.” 

“You sick?” Daryl asked, entering the room fully and going over to examine her up close. He took stock of her splayed out form. If you were trying to find something wrong—which he was—you could say she was  _ maybe _ a little pale, but her eyes were bright and alert, if not somewhat tired around the edges, but who wasn’t exhausted nowadays? Daryl couldn’t remember the last time he got a full night’s sleep.

“I’m fine,” Carol said again, more pointedly this time, and her tone clearly meant that she wasn’t going to put up with any fussing, which was okay with Daryl, because he didn’t like to fuss over her. Not because he didn’t care. In fact, it was the opposite. Daryl dealt with pain and sickness by being as grumpy and stand-offish as possible, wanting to be left alone like an injured cat or dog, hiding to heal in peace. It was a survival instinct, and he wanted to grant Carol the same courtesy. He gave her one more good look over and concluded that she wasn’t dying, and if she really was feeling unwell enough to miss supper with the group for the first time that he could remember, then he wasn’t about to impede on her space.

He set the bowl of stew down on the wobbly, splintered side table, and said, “You let me know if you get to feelin’ worse, okay?”

The corner of Carol’s mouth quirked up, like she knew that his dropping and dashing was his way of being sweet.

“Thank you,” she said. 

Daryl nodded in response, and showed himself to the door, satisfied that she was now fed and he’d accomplished what he had set out to do.

What he didn’t see, as he headed out of the room without looking back, was Carol’s pained grimace, and her white-knuckle grip on her outstretched leg.

*

“And that was when she said that I didn’t trust that she could take care of herself, and  _ I _ said that it wasn’t that I didn’t think she could take care of herself, but I just didn’t see why she had to volunteer to go on runs all the time when there are plenty of other people who could do it, and then I brought up the fact that she’s talked about starting a family someday, maybe soon, and it’d be a hard adjustment for her not being able to go out anymore if she never established work here at the prison. And then she got mad and asked if I expected her to never leave the prison again if we had a baby, and I said that I assumed I’d be the one going out so she could stay home, and that’s when she told me I was no better than her old-fashioned grandaddy who forbade his wife to work, and so I was like, it’s nothing like that, it’s just that women are better with babies, and I didn’t want her going out and getting hurt if we had a kid at home, and so then she called me a patriarchal asshole, and that’s why she’s spending the night with Beth.”

Daryl leaned against the balcony of the watchtower, his rifle propped up beside him, as he regretted asking Glenn the question, “Why’d you switch shifts with Rick?”

“Shit sucks,” Daryl mumbled, not quite sure what else he was meant to say. Glenn didn’t seem to mind, since, much to Daryl’s chagrin, he continued to talk.

“I don’t understand women at all sometimes. Like, I know Maggie’s as tough as any dude here, but that doesn’t mean I want her out there risking her life.”

“None of us want each other riskin’ our lives, but we do it ‘cause we gotta,” Daryl said, looking straight ahead at the small crowd of walkers gathered at the southside fence. 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just different when it’s your wife. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m being selfish, I dunno.”

Daryl glanced behind him at Glenn, who was slumped against the wall with his arms crossed, a small pout on his lips, and Daryl felt for the kid. He really did. Maybe he was a tactless dumbass sometimes, but he meant well and wanted his girl safe. Daryl considered offering support and validation to lift Glenn’s spirits, except that seemed like opening up an avenue for further conversation. So he didn’t.

For the next fifteen minutes the two of them kept watch in blissful silence, and Daryl took the time to appreciate the abundance of stars twinkling above the forest out beyond the prison gates. There wasn’t much to like about this new world, but the way the night sky lit up without all the light pollution to hide it was one of the few silver linings. He knew a good handful of constellations, having learned them to navigate when hunting, and in the quiet of the night he was able to look up and he had the freedom to try and find—

“Did you ever have a serious relationship with anyone? A girlfriend or wife? You know, back before people started eating each other?” Glenn asked, breaking Daryl out of his peaceful reverie. 

“No,” Daryl said flatly. He offered no additional information.

“No one?” Glenn asked. Daryl let his silence speak for itself. “Well, what about now?”

“What do you mean ‘what about now’?” 

“You ever think about settling down with someone?”

“Pfft,” Daryl snorted. “The fuck’s ‘settling down’ s’posed to look like, the world the way it is?” 

“Obviously I don’t mean a white-picket fence, but we have walls now. It seems like we have a real chance of making this place a long-term thing. You could totally find a girl and like, have a life with her.” 

“Mm,” Daryl said, beyond disinterested in having this discussion. He considered talking to Rick about their policy of having two people on watch at night.

“There’s lots of awesome women to choose from. That one chick, Carla? The one with the face mole? She’s got a thing for you.” Daryl scoffed in disgust, and Glenn quickly added, “Her mole isn’t  _ that _ big. Like, if you don’t look right at it she’s really pretty. And she’s good at archery. You guys could, I dunno, shoot arrows together.”

“Don’t give a shit what she looks like,” Daryl said, rolling his eyes, partially at the conversation, but mostly at himself for engaging in the first place. He should have just offered support and validation.

“Well...arrows then?”

“I only care that she’s good at archery ‘cause it means we got more people to take down walkers, ‘sides, I ain’t ever said more than ten words to her, why would she pay me any mind?”

“To be fair, you haven’t said more than ten words to most people.”

“And yet you still are makin’ me talk,” Daryl said, casting Glenn a glare. Glenn shrugged unapologetically.

“If she did ‘pay you mind’—which she totally does, by the way—would you want to be with her?”

“Jesus Christ. No. I don’t know this girl from Adam, why would I wanna get with some stranger?”

“Okay, so you want to get to know someone first. I can respect that. There’s gotta be someone you’ve felt like getting to know, though, right? Is it Rebecca? Because I saw you talking to her the other day.”

“I was tellin’ her that the stray dog she’s been takin’ care of and feedin’ got ate by a walker,” Daryl deadpanned.

“Oh.” A pause. “Aubrey?” 

“For fuck’s sake. What is this? High school playground gossip? I ain’t lookin’ for nothin’, and if you’re smart you’ll mind your damn business.”

Another pause.

“Your high school had a playground?”

Daryl turned around and punched Glenn in the shoulder, a little harder than was needed to get his point across. Glenn mumbled a quiet, “ow,” and rubbed his arm with a frown.

“Time is it?” Daryl asked gruffly, turning back to the balcony ledge.

“Quarter ‘til,” Glenn said, checking his watch.

“Good. Carol’s changin’ shifts with me at the top of the hour so I can get away from your nosy ass.”

“Hey, what about Carol?” Glenn asked brightly, as though he just had an epiphany.

“Huh?”

“She’s a woman you know super well. And she’s the only person you spend any of your time with on purpose. Maybe you could take that friendship of yours with her to the next level.” Glenn waggled an eyebrow at Daryl, who squinted at him.

“Carol don’t need anyone pesterin’ her, she’s got more than enough on her plate, so don’t you go naggin’ her when she gets up here with all this same bullshit.”

“I don’t need to. She already has game. That guy, Chad, over in cell block A? His son’s in Carol’s storytime group, and he’s always staying by afterwards to chat her up, and Carol lets him, and plays all coy. I’ve seen it.” 

“She does?” Daryl asked, sounding more surprised than he intended. Glenn gave him a smirk that made Daryl want to punch him again. “Never mind,” he said. “She’s grown. She can flirt with whoever, it ain’t my business. And it ain’t yours neither. So leave her be, you hear?”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Dixon?” 

“No, but you’re about to be detectin’ a whole lotta anger here in a second.”

“Yeah yeah, fine. You’re a buzzkill, though, you know that?”

“And your wife’s spendin’ the night with her lil’ sister ‘cause you annoyed the shit out of her,” Daryl said, and Glenn flipped him the bird.

A few more minutes ticked by, and when Carol still hadn’t shown, Daryl asked for the time again.

“Five after,” Glenn said. Daryl frowned. Carol was never late for her shifts. He didn’t voice his concern, however, not wanting to give Glenn the ammunition to tease him again, what with him getting underwear in a twist over five measly minutes.

But by a quarter after, even Glenn seemed puzzled.

“She say anythin’ to you about switchin’ shifts?” Daryl asked.

“Nope. I haven’t seen her all day.” 

“She wasn’t at supper again?” Daryl asked, furrowing his brow. He’d started his shift right before the food was served, and hadn’t thought to wait around a few minutes to see if she showed up. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her all day either; hadn’t seen her since he brought her that bowl of stew last night. It wasn’t totally out of the norm—she had her jobs and he had his—but still, something wasn’t sitting right.

“Imma go check on her,” Daryl said, straightening up, and he must have sounded genuinely concerned, because Glenn nodded without comment. “You good on your own for a few?”

“Of course. Go on.”

Daryl didn’t need to be told twice. He got down from the watchtower and headed towards the library, but stopped halfway there. Tonight was the day of the week when some of the Woodbury folks did a survival skills class in the library—Daryl knew because he was forced to teach it on a rotating schedule basis, and he hated it. But harping on memories of awkwardly trying to show idiots with no common sense how to tell the difference between edible plants and poisonous ones was not what he needed to be focusing his attention on at the moment.

He decided to try her cell.

When he reached it the curtain was drawn and the door was shut, which was out of the ordinary because the members of the core group rarely closed their rooms off unless they really wanted privacy, the idea of not being able to see their surroundings not sitting well with them, even in a place as secure as the prison.

Hesitantly, Daryl rapped his knuckles against the cell bars and softly called out her name. He paused to listen, but there was no response or movement that he could hear. After a brief debate, he pulled on the door slowly, giving her time to react in case she was changing or was otherwise indecent.

There still was nothing from inside, so he decided the hell with it and opened the door all the way, pushing the curtain aside. He scanned the room, and it took him a moment to realize that the heap of blankets on the floor wasn’t a mess Carol hadn’t picked up, but was in fact Carol herself, wrapped underneath them, lying flat on her stomach.

“Carol, what the hell?” Daryl asked, alarmed. He went to her immediately and crouched down beside her. Her cheek was pressed against the cement and her eyes were closed. “Carol,” he said louder. “Carol, hey.”

At the sound of his voice she began to stir, blinking blearily up at him, and while her eyes may have looked bright and alert yesterday, they were sunken and glazed today. She squinted at him, like she had to think hard to figure out who it was hovering in front of her. 

“Time is it?” she mumbled, not lifting her face off the ground. “Is it my shift?” 

“Forget about that. Why don’t you tell me why you look half-dead on the floor?”

“Was hot,” she said absently. “But cold, too. I got under the blankets and the floor was cool and felt nice so I stayed here.” 

Daryl, noticing tiny beads of sweat along her hairline, reached out and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. He immediately recoiled.

“Fucking hell, Carol, you’re burning up. C’mon, let’s get you back in your bed.” Daryl went to scoop her up, but when he rolled her over onto her back she yelped in pain, startling him. “What?” he demanded. “What is it, what’d I hurt?” 

Carol shook her head, eyes clenched tight, unable to answer. Daryl fumbled with the blankets, trying to detangle her from them. When he finally got her free, he found her in a tank top and shorts, and his gaze landed on a bandage sloppily taped around her left thigh.

“Did you get hurt?” he asked, reaching over to check the wound, but the second he touched it, Carol hissed and swatted his hand away. That only served to raise his hackles higher. He muttered, “Sorry, but I gotta see.” He started to undo the bandage, and felt like the world’s biggest asshole as she whimpered in pain, visibly trying not to push him off of her. 

Once he got the tape undone, he pulled the whole thing back and sucked in a breath in between his teeth.

“Christ Carol,” he muttered, examining her thigh. There was a jagged gash that was flaming red and oozing, clearly infected. A horrifying thought crossed his mind, and frantically he asked, “This ain’t a bite, is it? Or a scratch?” 

“No,” Carol said weakly through clenched teeth, angling her leg away from his hand. Daryl relaxed marginally, but he was far from placated.

“This is infected,” he said. “Real bad. Might have gotten in your blood, makin’ you sick. How long you had this and said nothin’?” He shot an angry look at Carol, but she wasn’t paying attention, her head lolled to the side. Instantly, he softened. 

“I gotta get Hershel or Dr. S,” he said, covering her up with the blanket again. “You hang on in here, alright? I’ll be right back.”

“Mm,” Carol hummed, and Daryl wasn’t sure if she understood him or not, but didn’t waste time trying to find out. Jumping into action, he got to his feet and hurried to find help.

So much for letting her heal in hiding, he thought, chastising himself for leaving her all alone the night before. 

He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

*

Daryl sat on the ground across from Carol’s cell, wrapping a loose thread on his shirt around his finger over and over again as he watched Hershel and Dr. S through the small doorway. They were huddled around the bed, blocking her from his view, and his stomach was in knots so tight that you’d think he was waiting for a doctor to come out of an operating room and give him news about a loved one’s brain surgery, instead of waiting to hear news about an infected cut. 

But it wasn’t just a simple cut, Daryl was convinced of that. Not with the way she had yelped when he first touched her. He drew his shoulders to his chin and cringed at the memory of the sound. After she had collected her bearings he had seen that strong-as-steel resolve come back over her when he messed around with the bandage, but when he first picked her up and she screamed it had been unfiltered and unguarded, betraying what he knew she’d rather hide, which was that she was in agony.

And he hadn’t noticed; had left her alone in the library to get even worse. 

Daryl thunked his head back against the wall with a sigh, pissed that she hadn’t told him she was hurt, and pissed that he hadn’t worked out that she was lying. 

In the cell, the two doctors straightened up, and Daryl clambered to his feet in an instant. The doctors muttered a few words to each other that Daryl couldn’t make out, and that was the last of his patience. He strode across the hall and loitered just outside the door.

“Well?” he asked sharply. Hershel and Dr. S turned at his demanding tone and exchanged a glance with one another. 

“Go ahead,” Dr. S told Hershel, who nodded and stepped out into the hall, placing a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and guiding him out of earshot of Carol, who Daryl wasn’t sure was even conscious. 

“Caleb and I believe that the infection on Carol’s thigh has spread and has turned into sepsis,” Hershel said calmly. 

“Okay, how bad is that?” Daryl asked, wracking his brain for any minute medical knowledge he had stored in there.

“Life threatening if not treated swiftly,” Hershel said. “Without treatment she will likely go into septic shock and her organs will begin shutting down.”

Daryl blanched. 

“But you’ll treat it, right? Patch her back up?” he asked.

“We will certainly try.”

“ _ Try _ ?” Daryl said sourly. 

“Yes,” said Hershel, still infuriatingly calm. “In a perfect world we’d have a hospital to hook her up to IVs to medicate her and keep her hydrated, but the world, as I’m sure you’ve seen, is far from perfect, and so we’ll have to make due with what we’ve got. The good news is that we have enough antibiotics in the infirmary to give her a full treatment. The variable, however, is how well those antibiotics are going to work. We have to hope that the pills are strong enough and fast enough to attack the bacteria before the bacteria attacks her.” 

Daryl liked this less and less with every word. 

“Did you figure out where she got that cut from?” he asked when he couldn’t figure out what else to say. 

“I was hoping you’d be able to enlighten me on the subject,” Hershel said. “She didn’t mention the injury to you at all? I figured that if she was open with anyone it would have been you.”

Daryl cast his eyes down and kicked the floor with the toe of his boot.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Me, too.” 

*

Daryl had hardly left her bedside in twenty four hours, only leaving when he absolutely had to, or to give her privacy when Dr. S or Hershel came by to change her bandage and force another horse pill down her throat. She had barely been lucid since he found her on the floor, and when she was awake she was often confused, her fever inching higher and higher with no signs of stopping.

Daryl couldn’t stop feeling responsible, as if he could have predicted this would be the outcome after taking one look at her in the library; as if he should have realized she was about to become deathly ill when she dismissively said that she felt like shit.

Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault, and if he did some  _ really _ deep digging, he would know that sitting around blaming himself was his way of deflecting, because the truth of the matter was that he was scared. He had already visited her grave once before, and he had no desire to do it again.

In all this time he had never stopped to consider a name for what Carol was to him, and he didn’t have it in him to do so now, but “important” seemed like a fitting placeholder for the time being. More important than anything had ever been to him, and not something he was willing to lose.

Around seven or eight or maybe nine in the evening—Daryl had made other people cover all his work duties for the next couple days, and his shifts were the only way he ever managed to keep track of time—Carol started mumbling in her sleep. Daryl, who was on the floor up against her bed, craned his neck to check on her, and saw that she had her face screwed up in a grimace. She continued to mumble, and the only words Daryl could sort of make out sounded a lot like “sorry” and “don’t”.

He had his suspicions, but it was when Carol hunched her shoulders like she was cowering or bracing herself for a blow that Daryl knew without a doubt exactly what type of dream she was having, and who it was about. He couldn’t let her stay stuck in a fever nightmare—especially not one like that—so he lifted himself up onto the edge of the bed, and took one of her hands in his.

“Hey,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re dreamin’. You ain’t nowhere but safe in bed.”

Carol didn’t stop cowering, so Daryl took a chance and reached out to cup her cheek. At the touch, she jolted, eyes snapping open, and she tried to squirm away from him. 

(It wasn’t the worst it could have been. Daryl had been known to throw punches if someone touched him in the throes of a nightmare.)

“I’m sorry,” she told Daryl in a high pitched, quivering voice that didn’t sound like hers. “I won’t do it again, just please don’t. Please? Not in front of the baby.” 

Daryl’s heart broke at Carol’s delirium, angry that even in death Ed managed to find ways to hurt her. It was the most unfair thing imaginable, to live in a world full of monsters, but to still be afraid of something as simple as a man. Daryl understood the pain and frustration of it, having his own ghost that trailed behind him at all times, always waiting for a moment of vulnerability in order to slip in and haunt him again.

“Shh,” Daryl shushed her gently. “You’re safe.”

Carol blinked several times at him, and he could pinpoint the moment she came back to reality, and recognition washed over her, the tension in her sick body easing as she let out a deep sigh.

“Daryl,” she said with relief.

“Hey,” Daryl said, lifting the corner of his mouth up in a reassuring smile.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, are you,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

“Never,” Daryl said with absolute honesty. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

“Mm, that’s not true,” she said, sounding like she could slip right back into sleep at the drop of a hat. She was right, of course, there was no way he could promise that no one would hurt her. Some days it seemed like all people did was hurt other people, or get hurt themselves. But she added, “You won’t, though. I’m safe with you.”

“Damn straight,” Daryl said, his stomach feeling funny at her blatant trust in him. “‘M sorry I didn’t know you was sick. Woulda gotten you to see the docs sooner.”

“Not your fault,” Carol said, fading.

“Here, drink some of this ‘fore you go out again,” Daryl said, snatching a glass of water off her bedside table. He held it to her lips and helped her lift her head up high enough to take a few small swallows of water, before laying her back down gently and fixing her blanket by tucking it in around her shoulders. She smiled even as her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Aren’t you sweet?” she said with a yawn.

“Stop,” Daryl said, fighting back his own smile. “You get some more rest. Let that medicine do its job so that you can get back to kickin’ ass and takin’ names, alright?”

Carol didn’t respond, fast asleep already, her face calm now that he chased her nightmare away. He used the moment of peace as an opportunity to take stock of her features, from the curve of her lips, to the shape of her nose, to the length of her eyelashes. Even sick as a dog in bed she was really very pretty. How had he never noticed that before?

Watching her lie there, he remembered how back at Hershel’s farm, after he’d taken an arrow, and a bullet, looking for Sophia, she had come into his room and gave him a kiss that had caught him completely off guard. He’d scoffed and made a joke, but he never mentioned that the kiss had felt like a spoonful of warm honey, temporarily easing all his aches and pains.

Daryl drummed his fingers on his thigh, considering her pretty face, flush with fever, and he thought about that scream she made when he’d touched her leg, and he wondered if he could ease any of her pain, too.

After nearly a full minute of debate, Daryl leaned over her and, hesitantly, pressed the sweetest, most tender of kisses on her temple. He stayed like that for a beat, or two, before pulling away, his pulse thrumming so hard it was threatening to burst straight through his throat. Swallowing hard, and feeling a little less guilty and a little less afraid than before, Daryl decided that kisses really did have some healing properties to them.

Smiling to himself, Daryl straightened up. He turned his head, and instantly froze. He felt his face grow as hot as Carol’s when he saw Glenn outside the cell door, staring at him with a shit-eating grin, like he was a kid at Disneyworld.

“Shut the…” Daryl started to say loudly, and then stopped himself, glancing down at Carol’s sleeping form. He silently told her he’d be right back after he committed a quick murder, and jumped to his feet.

Glenn, not having the good sense to bolt immediately, was easily captured when Daryl grabbed the back of his shirt like the scruff of a cat’s neck, and dragged him away from Carol’s cell.

“I was checking her temperature,” Daryl said without preamble, letting Glenn go and shooting daggers at him, daring him to say something.

“You have a thing for Carol,” Glenn beamed, daring to say something. “You have a thing for her, and you were kissing her forehead, and it was  _ adorable _ .”

“I was,” Daryl said in a calculated tone. “Checking her temperature.” 

“With your mouth?”

“The skin on your lips is more sensitive so it’s easier to tell how high someone’s—oh shut the fuck up,” Daryl said when Glenn’s smile only grew wider.

“No no, go on, tell me about how you were just playing doctor.”

“I ain’t havin’ this conversation,” Daryl said. He didn’t mention that part of the reason why was because he may have just realized something very important about himself, the implications of which were huge and possibly dangerous, including, but not limited to, the fact that it meant Glenn was  _ right _ . He wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept that kind of reality, so he was going to push all of it out of his mind.

Glenn got a good laugh at Daryl’s expense, and then sobered up some, asking more seriously, “How is she though, really?”

Daryl huffed and shrugged helplessly.

“Dunno. Sick? Real sick. We’re just kinda waitin’ to see if the meds will be able to do the job or not. That damn fever of hers won’t break.”

“I can see why you’re so diligent about taking it, then,” Glenn said, grinning at Daryl’s glare. “Do you know how she hurt herself yet?”

“No,” Daryl said, scowling at nothing in particular. “And it’s frustrating as hell. She ain’t had enough sense about her to tell me much of anythin’ worth hearin’, and I didn’t have no idea about it before all’a this.”

“I don’t get why she’d hide it. Hershel could have caught the infection before it got this bad.”

Daryl grunted. Glenn was preaching to the choir.

“She’ll be okay, though,” Glenn said then with conviction. “She’s tough. Like, crazy tough. Tougher than she looks.”

Daryl blew a breath out his nose, giving a half-smile, glad to know he wasn’t the only person who saw Carol as the force of nature that she was. He nodded in agreement, and Glenn thumped him on the arm a couple times, the way guy friends that aren’t Daryl made a habit of doing, and it was weird, but not entirely unwelcome.

“Just keep up the good work, Dr. Dixon,” Glenn said, ruining the moment. “Seriously, I’m impressed with your ingenuity. Lips as a thermometer? Brilliant. What will you use to check her temperature next? Do you think you could use your—”

Daryl didn’t bother to wait for Glenn to peel himself from the wall Daryl shoved him into, choosing instead to turn on his heel and head back to Carol’s room without another word. 

*

A day later Carol’s fever still hadn’t broken, although the redness around her wound was starting to fade, and while she still slept most of the time, when she was awake she was more lucid, and had even sipped down half a bowl of broth. 

After Hershel bullied him into leaving Carol's cell for at least an hour to give them both some space, Daryl went and took a shower, did a quick check with Rick to make sure the fort was still being held down, and then made his way right back to their cell block. When he got to her room, Daryl was surprised to find Carl in there by her bedside, sitting on a chair, seeming solemn. He must have felt Daryl's eyes on him, because he startled and turned towards him, looking like he thought Daryl might berate him, as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I just wanted to see if she was okay," Carl said in a hurried whisper, trying to assure Daryl he wasn't up to something, which, of course, made Daryl think he was up to something. Daryl crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

"She's about as okay as she has been," Daryl said quietly, not wanting to wake her. "Sick, but hopefully on the mend."

"Good. That's she's on the mend, I mean. Hershel said he thought she might be getting better."

"He did, huh? So you already knew how she was doin' 'fore you came here."

"I mean…" Carl shrugged, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

"You ain't in trouble kid, calm down," Daryl said. "There's nothin' wrong with checkin' on a sick friend, but that's the thing. There's nothin' wrong with it, so why are you actin' so weird? You got somethin' to tell me?"

Carl was a deer in the headlights, and Daryl couldn't begin to fathom why. The kid looked back at Carol and asked, "She's gonna get better, right? For sure?"

"Sure as hell hope so," Daryl said, narrowing his eyes at Carl. It wasn't that he thought Carl didn't care about Carol, but by the way he was acting you would think he and Carol were thick as thieves, when they usually showed each other polite respect at most. "Seriously, what's eatin' you?" 

Carl wrung his hands in his lap, ducking his head, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes.

"If I tell you something will you promise not to get mad?" he asked, which was the worst way a child could ever start a sentence.

"Maybe," Daryl said cautiously. "How bad we talkin'?"

Carl let out a long, long sigh, and then peeked up through his bangs at Daryl.

"It's my fault Carol got hurt," he said in a mumble, and Daryl knitted his brow together.

"The hell you talkin' about?" he asked, stepping into the room. He checked to make sure Carol was still sleeping before he crouched down in front of Carl and met his eye. "What happened?"

"You know how dad's been not letting me fight walkers anymore?" 

"Uh huh."

"Well, I've been worried that if I don't practice fighting then I might forget, and if something bad happens I won't be able to protect everyone..." Carl seemed to get stuck on the next part, and Daryl nudged him in the knee to encourage him to keep going. "Right, so I might have, the other night, gone outside the gate to take down walkers."

Daryl flicked Carl on the forehead, ignoring his "ow!", and said, "You idiot. You went  _ outside _ the gates? At  _ night _ ? You tryna get yourself killed?"

"No," Carl said defensively, rubbing his head with a grimace. "I just wanted to stay sharp."

"And that was the best way you could think to do it, huh? Tell me, did you inherit any brains from your parents at all, or did they forget to give you that part?"

"I won't do it again."

"Fucking right you won't. Jesus. And how does she come in?" Daryl asked, nodding at Carol. "I take it she saw you leave and went after you?"

"Yeah."

"Did she save your ass?"

"I could have handled it even if she hadn't shown up."

"That's a yes. How'd she fuck up her leg?"

Carl groaned and rubbed his face with his hands.

"There's this tiny hole in the fence I use to get out through, and—"

"Use? As in you've pulled this shit before?"

"Never at night, and never for long."

Daryl made a mental note to tell Rick to tether Carl to a tree.

"We'll circle back to that. So there's a tiny hole you didn't tell nobody about, even though it's a security risk that could get a whole lot of us hurt, and then what?"

"Well we were kind of...needing to hurry, because I drew the attention of some walkers—which I seriously could have handled and it wasn't as big a deal as she made it seem—but she got me back through, and when she followed, a walker grabbed her boot and when she kicked it off of her she hit a piece of wire on the fence and it tore through her pants and cut up her leg really bad. It was bleeding a lot, and I thought she was going to go see Dr. S or Hershel."

"Except she didn't because I'm guessing you begged her not to snitch and she decided to play nice even though you didn't deserve it. Is that right?"

"I guess," Carl mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself. "I really didn't mean for her to get hurt, and if I knew she was hurt this bad I would have said something, I swear. And if she doesn't get better, it'll be my fault." He hugged himself even tighter, tears welling up in his eyes, and all at once, Daryl's anger went down to a simmer as he remembered that he was dealing with a child. A dumbass child, but a child nonetheless.

"Hey, listen to me, kid," Daryl said, placing a knuckle under Carl's chin and raising his head up. "What you did was dumb as hell, and don't you go thinkin' that the only reason it was bad was 'cause Carol got hurt. You need to do as your dad says, or you're the one who's gonna end up getting hurt, and we're not gonna have that, alright?

"As for Carol, you stop blamin' yourself. It's not gonna make her get any better or worse, all this mopin' around. She's grown, and she decided on her own she wasn't gonna go to Hershel or Dr. S. If you think you're so clever you can trick Carol into doin' somethin' then I think we gotta knock that head down a few pegs, 'cause trust me, she doesn't do a thing unless she wants to. If she didn't snitch on you it was for her own reasons, and I'll lay in on her about that once she's up with the living again."

"Okay," Carl said in a small voice. "Are you gonna tell my dad?"

Daryl regarded Carl for a long moment.

"No," he said finally. "But soon as she's okay and I'm back to work you're gonna show me this hole in the fence and I'm gonna lock it down."

"Don't bother," Carl said gloomily, getting to his feet and heading to the door. "Carol already did."

Daryl fought back a smile, and after Carl was gone, he turned to Carol. He adjusted her blanket and then took the seat Carl just vacated. 

"Atta girl," he whispered.

*

"99.9. Your temperature is officially no longer in the hundreds," Hershel said with a smile, removing a thermometer from Carol's mouth and checking the number. "I do believe you might live, my dear."

"I wrote out my will for nothing," Carol said, burrowing deeper into her mattress and giving Hershel a tired smile. 

Daryl, leaning up against the wall, hovering as usual, breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in days. As strong he knew Carol was, there was a part of him that was worried, when her fever refused to go down, that the infection was stronger.

But of course it wasn't, and he was silly to think it would go any other way. She was still exhausted, still weak, and still pale as a ghost, but the light was back in her eyes, she ate two full meals in one day, and she was closer to a human temperature than to Satan's.

Which was all to say, thank fuck.

"I'm happy to say I don't think you're going to be in need of my services anymore, just as long as you take your antibiotics on time, until they're all gone, and keep that bandage clean. I'll take a look at the wound in about a day or so, alright?" Hershel said.

"Got it," Carol said. "Thank you. And thank Dr. S."

"If you want to thank us properly, please, the next time you get hurt, come to us  _ before _ it's life or death. Could you do that?"

"We'll see," Carol said with a smirk.

"That sounds about right," Hershel said, patting her knee, and with that he showed himself out. 

There was an off-center beat of silence in his absence. This was the first day since she got sick that Carol was truly lucid, and Daryl suddenly felt self-conscious about being glued to her hip. But that didn't mean he wanted to leave either.

"Do you want... should I give you some privacy?" he asked, letting her make the decision for him.

"Oh," she said, face falling. "Sure, yeah, I mean, you must be sick and tired of watching me be sick and tired."

"That ain't what I meant," Daryl said. "I just figured you was pro'ly over me bein' around you twenty four seven."

"I'm not," she said earnestly. Daryl chewed on a fingernail, regarding her.

"Okay," he said. "I ain't either."

"Good, because now that I'm healthy enough to stay awake, but too sick to do anything but lie around, I am  _ bored _ ."

Daryl huffed a laugh and went over to take a seat on his chair, but Carol pointed at the end of her bed and bent her legs to make room. Hesitating only a moment, Daryl took the offer, and was hardly settled in before she laid her bare legs across his lap, making him snort.

"You just wanted to put your feet up, huh?" he said, resting a hand on her shin. She shrugged, but didn't deny it. "How's the pain?" Daryl asked, nodding at the large, white bandage partially covered by her shorts. 

"Not like it was," she said.

"I hope not. You scared the shit out of me, the way you yelled." Daryl still didn't like thinking about the sound for too long.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry for the whole thing. I thought I could take care of it on my own, but it just got so infected so fast. I was being stubborn."

"Imagine that," Daryl said, flicking her ankle. "But I know you was really tryna cover for the kid."

Carol raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"How'd you figure that one out?"

"He told me. You was passed out for it, but he was about to break down by your bedside 'cause he was convinced you was gonna die and it would be his fault."

"Poor idiot," Carol said wistfully, and Daryl hummed in agreement. "But then, I nearly let myself die to cover for him, so who's really the idiot?"

"I didn't tell on him either," Daryl said, smiling when Carol laughed. He leaned his head back against the wall and regarded her, his smile fading.

"What is it?" she asked. Daryl searched her face.

"Don't do that shit to me again," he said. 

"I really didn't mean to scare you."

"I know. I forgive you. Just don't do it again. I dunno if you realize just how sick you was. You had me wishin' I was the prayin' type, just so I had someone to ask for help."

Carol plucked at the blanket bunched up at her side, her brow furrowing. 

"What is it?" Daryl asked this time.

"Hershel said you've hardly left my side in days. I don't remember a lot of it, but he assured me you've been here; that you haven't been working or gone hunting."

"Is that bad?"

"Of course not, but I just...I guess I don't understand  _ why _ ."

"I was scared somethin' would happen to you when I wasn't here," Daryl said, averting his gaze, playing with the top of her sock. 

"It's not the first time someone's been hurt," Carol pointed out. "But you've never spent all your time at their bedsides."

Daryl forced himself to look at her, and said, "Them people weren't you." Carol's pale cheeks turned pink, and Daryl felt his own grow warm. "I heard that guy Chad was askin' about you, wantin' to know if you was okay."

"Who?" Carol asked, squinting like she was trying to place the name.

"His kid's in your storytime group. Glenn said he usually hangs around afterwards," Daryl said, keeping his voice as casual as he could. Carol barked a laugh.

"Oh that guy," she said, shaking her head with an eye roll. "I'm not surprised. He's always hitting on me, thinking he's real smooth, while he's actually tripping all over himself. I only put up with it because I don't want him to pull his son from the group, but god he's annoying."

"Huh," Daryl said, like he didn’t care about it one way or another. 

"What's it matter to you?" Carol asked with a smirk. "You jealous?" 

"Pfft," Daryl scoffed, hoping she didn't notice that he didn't technically answer the question. She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't press the issue. 

"Entertain me," she said instead, tapping her foot against his belly. 

"M'kay. How?"

"You're supposed to figure that out."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm definitely all fun and games. You pick somethin'."

Carol sighed dramatically and then twisted her mouth in thought. 

"Tell me things you miss the most from before. Not big things, just stupid stuff, like cheeseburgers or Saturday morning cartoons."

"Mm, fine, but you gotta play, too."

"Deal. You first, though."

Daryl instantly forgot everything that ever existed. 

"I have no idea," he said after thinking for thirty seconds and coming up with nothing. Carol thwapped him on the arm.

"You're not allowed to give up on the game before it's even started," she said.

"Ask me somethin' specific, then."

"Fine. What movie are you most upset about never seeing again?"

"Didn't watch a whole lotta movies," Daryl said. "I liked them old, dumb horror ones, though, like  _ The Blob _ or  _ The Killer Shews _ . We couldn't afford cable, but there was this one channel that would play movies like that at night, and I used to stay up late and watch 'em on our shitty TV that always had static on it. Scared the fuck outta me when I was real little, but it was the fun kind of scared."

"That's adorable," Carol said, pouting her lip out, and Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

"What about you? Bet you watched all kinds of romcoms and shit, didn't you?"

"Okay, first off, romcoms are underrated," Carol said, holding up a finger sternly, making Daryl smile. "But I didn't watch as many as you might think. I liked dark comedies, and dramatic films. But if I had to pick one I miss the most…? Oh, I know. When I was in high school, a couple girlfriends and I snuck out and went to a showing of  _ The Rocky Horror Picture Show _ . We dressed up and everything. I spent forever afterwards scrubbing makeup off my face so my mom wouldn't ask questions. I always wanted to go again, but never did."

"I guarantee you there's still people around who know that movie by heart. Of all the movies in the world, that's the one you pro'ly can still see."

"Will you go scouting for me? Find people and ask: How many walkers have you killed, how many people have you killed, why, and also how many lyrics to  _ The Rocky Horror Picture Show _ do you know?"

"I'll get right on that," Daryl said, laughing.

"Would you play Rocky for me? I think you'd look fabulous."

"Carol," Daryl said with a straight face. "I would rather die."

“Yeah, well, you in those little gold shorts? A girl can dream.” 

“Anyway, next question,” Daryl said pointedly. 

“Fine, though you’d think you’d be nicer to me given that I almost died.” She hemmed and hawed, and Daryl found that a slow smile was growing on his face, and out of nowhere he had the strong and unexpected thought that she was cute like this—all unguarded and playful—and when in his entire life had he ever considered somebody to be  _ cute _ ?

But she  _ was  _ cute, and beautiful too, and while Daryl wasn’t one for silly games, her change in demeanor was such a reprieve from the tension over the past few days that he would gladly humor her, if it meant that she was happy.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Carol asked abruptly. 

“Like what?” Daryl asked.

“Like...I don’t even know. Intensely. Why are you looking at me so intensely?” 

He hadn’t realized he was, but given that all of his emotions seemed to be converging at once and were feeling rather intense right now, he supposed it made sense that his face would reflect it.

“I’m just real glad you’re okay,” he said softly.

“You know,” Carol said tentatively after a beat. “Anyone who’s ever looked at me like that tried to kiss me right after.” Daryl didn’t say anything. “Why’d you bring up that guy earlier, Daryl? Are you sure you weren’t jealous about him flirting with me?”

He shrugged, messing with a hangnail.

“Maybe I was.”

“Are you looking at me like that because you want to kiss me?” she asked.

Daryl could hear his own blood rushing in his ears as his heart beat in double time in his chest. He swallowed hard.

“Maybe I am,” he managed to say.

“Well,” Carol said slowly. “For what it’s worth, if you tried to I bet you’d be able to get away with it.” 

The inflection of her words was the one she used when he was teasing him, except now there was an underlying anxiety that he’d never heard before; a shyness that was uncharacteristic of her. Was that nervousness because of him? Because that was frankly ridiculous—he was the terrified one here, so far out of his depth that it was laughable. 

He hadn’t lied to Glenn when he told him there had never been anyone special in his life before the world went to shit. There were quick lays in bar bathrooms and mobile trailer couches, but there wasn’t anyone who ever stayed long enough for breakfast the next day. There wasn’t anyone he would have spent hours upon hours at their bedside, counting the seconds until their fever broke. Maybe what Glenn said was true when he said it was different when it was his wife. Carol wasn’t Daryl’s wife, but when he looked at her he saw potential, and he came to the conclusion then that not all losses were created equally, because not all love was created equally, and wasn’t it stupid? How someone who prided himself on his observation skills could be so blind to what was right in front of him? That it would take a trip to death’s door for him to realize that the concept of ‘settling down’ wasn’t as crazy as it seemed if it was with her?

God, Daryl hated it when Glenn was right.

“Sorry, that was probably crossing a line,” Carol said quickly when Daryl still hadn’t replied. “Let’s just blame the fever.”

“You don’t have a fever anymore,” Daryl said. 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t.” She shrugged. “I guess that means I meant it. But don’t worry about it. We can go back to our game and pretend I didn’t say anything.”

He didn’t want to pretend that she hadn’t said anything, but he would have to grow a pair of balls if he was going to explain that to her.

Daryl nudged her legs on his lap until she got the hint and lifted them off of him. When he was free, he crawled up to the top of the bed, mindful of her wound, and leaned over her, one hand on either side of her shoulders. She stared up at him, eyes back to how they were in the library—tired, but bright and alert—and they darted down to his lips and then up again quickly. Daryl sucked in a breath in a futile attempt to calm his nerves, and ducked down before he could talk himself out of it. 

She responded to his kiss instantly, her hand flying up to cup his cheek as she sighed into his mouth. It was way different than kissing her on the temple while she slept. If forehead kisses had healing properties, then real kisses had to be straight up cures for  _ something _ . She was warmer than she should be, still not quite at 98.6, but she wasn’t clammy when he tucked a hand underneath her back and felt the skin of her shoulder blade around the thin strap of her tank top. 

Growing more confident, he parted his lips and she followed suit enthusiastically, tasting his tongue with hers. He craved more physical contact. Carefully, and without breaking the kiss, he turned her on her good side, keeping his one hand on her back, and then placing the other on her hip, pulling her flush against him. She hummed appreciatively, and then pulled back from his mouth, snorting when he shamelessly tried to chase her. Before he could protest further, she started peppering the side of his throat with tiny kisses, making heat pool in his lower belly.

“Careful, we can only take this so far,” Daryl mumbled even as he lengthened his neck to give her more access.

“Why can’t we take it as far as we want?” she asked against his pulse point, making him ache.

“You’re sick,” he reminded her. 

“I’m better.”

“ _ Getting _ better,” he corrected, pushing her back just enough for her to stop sucking bruises on his skin. He met her eye and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. “You’re not healthy yet.” And this was also kind of fast, he didn’t say. Sure, he wanted all of it—like,  _ all _ of it—but he only  _ just  _ had his moment of realization that she was everything to him, and a brief adjustment period didn’t seem like an unreasonable request.

“We can slow down,” she said, hearing the thoughts he didn’t voice. “I got excited, is all, I didn’t think you would ever do that. But don’t feel pressured to give more than you can.”

“I don’t,” Daryl said genuinely. “And I might not be quick on the uptake, but I got more to give. Once you’re well. Once we ain’t cooped up in this cell we both hate.”

“God, I want out of here for longer than a trip to the bathroom,” Carol groaned. “Promise me we’ll go outside. You’ll take me into the woods.” 

“Goin’ outside the gates is what got you into this mess to begin with, you know?” Daryl said, but he was smiling. 

“No, what got me into this mess was Rick Grimes’ nuisance of a child,” she said. “But I’m safe with you, or don’t you remember?”

“I remember,” Daryl said, thinking about the evening he spent talking her down from her nightmare. “Surprised you do, though.”

“Even if I didn't, I'd still know that as fact.” 

Once again, Daryl felt flattered, and maybe a bit intimidated, at her blind faith in him.

He vowed resolutely to not let her down.

“Good. Now, what do you wanna do? Keep playin’ your game? Only got through one question. Or would you rather take a nap?”

“We could,” Carol said, brushing strands of Daryl’s hair behind his ear. “Or we could make out like teenagers.” 

Daryl breathed a laugh, even as his cheeks bloomed scarlet.

“I’d be okay with that,” he said.

*

The next morning, on his way to grab breakfast for Carol and himself, Daryl bumped into Glenn in the hall. Glenn took one look at him and smiled so wide Daryl could make out a filling in one of his back molars. 

“You got with Carol,” Glenn said with absolute certainty.

“Pfft, no I didn’t,” Daryl said, averting his eyes, blushing like a school boy, and a million other signs that exposed his statement as the biggest horseshit of all time.

“Oh yeah?” Glenn asked. “A walker give you that hickey, then?” He pointed, and Daryl looked down and found that the top button of his flannel had come undone, and an unmistakable red mark adored his chest. Hastily, he covered it back up.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled. 

“Hey man, not another peep from me. I’m just happy for you is all.” He thumped Daryl on the arm and went on his way. 

Daryl glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Glenn thrust his fist in his air in a  _ Breakfast Club _ salute of victory, cackling the whole way down the hall.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i miss glenn 
> 
> -diz


End file.
